Wondering
by Ketharil
Summary: NJOPost-NJO. Zero-One wonders about many things, including Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo. Complete.


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            This fic was originally posted on theforce.net, where I go by the screenname of SaberBlade.  If you recognize this, don't worry, it isn't plagiarized; I'm simply reposting it here also.

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            General Disclaimer:  Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and the characters belong to their respective authors.  Anything you don't recognize is mine; please respect my muse.  I don't intend any infringement with this fic; it was created because I have an abiding love for Star Wars and a wish to share my interpretation of it with the world.

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            **Details:**

            Name: Wondering

            Time Frame: NJO to Post-NJO

            Pairing: Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo

            Summary: Zero-One wonders and watches.

            Rating: G

            Story Status: Complete

Author Notes: I realize this is kinda odd.  Hope you enjoy it anyways; it was my second-person challenge to myself.

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            As always, reviews are appreciated.

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 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1---

You wonder.

            The fact that you wonder is itself worthy of thought.  You are an astromech droid; your existence is not to wonder.  Your existence is to aid your pilot.  But you haven't always had a pilot to aid, and thus you wonder.

            You have a pilot now.  It is your job- your meaning- to help your pilot. 

            Before you had no pilot.  You had a Master, true; a good and kind Master.  Master Eiskbar had kept you for years.  He had talked with you and had questioned you.  He had been a philosopher, and thus you had learned of the nature of philosophy.  You learned what it meant to wonder.  You conversed with him on the nature of good and evil, on whether life had a purpose, on whether your own existence had a purpose beyond aiding your pilot.  

            He didn't know.  You found that Master Eiskbar seemed happiest to think on things that had no easy answers or even no answers at all.  Life after death.  The existence of deities.  Why was there life?  What was forgiveness?

            So many questions.  Master Eiskbar died and you watched as his family returned him to the sea of Mon Calamari, the sea that had been his favored place to sit by and think.  And that same family that cherished him cut you loose and put you up for auction in an echoing hanger filled with milling pilots and techs and scavengers looking for spare parts.

            But you have a pilot now.  He has bought you and brought you to his squadron, where you find a home.  He has not wiped your memory yet.  You wonder if he will, but it has been a while and he still has not done so.

            You ask him about it in a series of whistles and beeps.  He glances down at the screen, and laughs.  "No," he says, and you think he is amused.  "I think it's a rule that every Jedi Master has to have an annoying astromech droid hanging around."

            Your pilot is rude and abrasive.  

            But he is a good pilot.  He wonders too, or at least you think he does.  On long flights he will spend time awake when he should be sleeping, staring out past his canopy and into the stars.  Sometimes when you are working together repairing the ship, his fingers will slow and falter and finally completely pause.  You wonder what he thinks on, and help him by answering his statements with your own questions, and giving him answers even when he does not specifically ask you for them.

            The first week he bought you, you went to a public information terminal and accessed information on him.  He is your pilot, after all, and it is your job to aid him.  That necessitates knowledge of him.  You learned his name and rank, what parts of his past that the public network has on file.  Kyp Durron, Jedi Master, former slave on Kessel, former Dark Jedi, killer of Carida, leader of the Dozen-and-Two Avengers, the first Jedi to encounter the Yuuzhan Vong.  You downloaded all the information on him that was publicly available, and examined it at your leisure.  But while the file offered suggestions as to what he might be thinking on, you still didn't know for sure.

            You grow to respect him.  Master Durron is kind to you, like Master Eiskbar was.  Though most of the time he does not speak directly to you, when you reply to his general words, he will reply to your responses.  You pride yourself on being able to make him think.  Master Eiskbar, you decide, would have approved of the way you spread philosophical ideas.

            But still you wonder. 

            You wonder on your existence, and more, you wonder on your pilot's existence.  You asked him once why he flew such dangerous missions, why he asked you to help him fight time after time after time.  

            "I have to fight," he said.  "No one else will."

            You didn't agree with him then, and you don't agree with him now.  Fighting is necessary in this case, but others will fight with him.  But he doesn't change: he still focuses his life on simply fighting and surviving to fight another day.

            You wonder if it is enough for him.

            You wonder if it is enough for you.

-

            Slowly, he gains followers.  People who think like he does, people who base their lives on fighting.  Pilots and support crews and soldiers.  You move bases frequently.  Pilots die and new ones take their place.  You wonder why no one questions whether what they are doing is right or not.  You wonder why Master Durron is able to lead so many people to their deaths.  You wonder if that is one of the things that he thinks about.

            You move to a new base, a frozen base, and you spend most of your time running diagnostics to make sure that Master Durron's X-wing doesn't freeze up.  More pilots arrive, more young beings willing to risk their lives fighting the Vong.  You wonder if they would think the cause still worth dying for after they finally die for it.

            You notice the X-wing enter the hanger, and focus your attention on it.  X-wings are rare: most ships in the hanger are older, battered and made of scrounged parts.  This X-wing is in good condition.  You wonder who has arrived, why their ship is taken care of so well.  You notice the squadron markings, and you understand an answer even as a new question is given: Rogue Eleven.  But why would a pilot from Rogue Squadron be here?  You wonder more.

            You watch as Master Durron moves to greet the new pilot.  She is young, as young as many of the pilots that have died in the past month, with brown hair and creamy skin, and you decide that most males would find her attractive.  She talks with Master Durron, and as she follows him out of the hanger, you notice the lightsaber hanging at her hip and the astromech droid being lowered to the ground and wonder vaguely if she is a Jedi Master since she has the required droid.  Your logic systems dismiss the idea as being fanciful.

            She stays for a few days.  You attempt to talk with her droid and are rebuffed all three times; it is a military R2 unit and full of its own importance.  You do not attempt a fourth time.  Master Durron flies with the new pilot into a hive of military activity; you go along, of course, but are confined to the hanger bay with the X-wing.  You are not military and thus you are not allowed to roam freely.  You spend your time wondering about the morality of armed conflict, on whether or not a standing militia improves the chances of peace or war.

            You fly in a battle again, but this time there are many other fighters flying with you instead of simply the Dozen and Master Durron's followers.  Master Durron is no longer the leader of the attack; Rogue Squadron is flying with him.  The new pilot- Rogue Eleven- fights as well.  You keep track of her kills, of her tactics, and are impressed.  She is a good pilot, easily the equal of yours.  You tell him that, and he just laughs.

            "Yeah, that's Jaina," he says.  

            Rogue Eleven has a name now: she is Jaina.  The battle is won and your pilot is happy about that.  You land in the main ship and begin the post-flight checklist, shutting systems down and running damage assessments.  But part of you watches your pilot weave through the crowd toward Rogue Eleven- Jaina.  Mistress Jaina, the part of your programming wired for protocol insists.  You dislike the formality, but accept it.

            Master Durron approaches Mistress Jaina, and she strikes him.  That surprises you.  You don't understand.  The two argue, and Master Durron gains the support of the crowd.  Mistress Jaina simply turns her back on him and walks away, shoulders slumped.  You are confused.  The way she walks speaks of defeat, yet a victory was won.

            Master Durron returns to the ship later that night.  You want to ask about Mistress Jaina, but can find no reason to, and so do not.

            Later, a nosy mousedroid trades information with you, and you discover the truth.

            And you wonder.

-

            He spends more time thinking after that, and you note it and wonder more.  You access the public information net, spend some time before you find that Rogue Eleven and Jaina really mean Jaina Solo, daughter of Princess Leia Organa and Han Solo, niece of Luke Skywalker, Jedi apprentice and officer in Rogue Squadron.

            You learn all you can about her, just as you learned all you could about your pilot.  You watch Master Durron retreat more, watch him simply fight and move and fight again.  You see that he spends long trips thinking rather than sleeping; you see him alone in evenings, separate from the pilots he once made effort to be friends with.

            And you wonder.

            You think you know what he thinks on.  Who he thinks on.

            And you wonder what that means.

-

            It has become a tradition for you: whenever you land groundside, you find a public access terminal, plug into it, and look up information on your pilot and Mistress Jaina.  You tell yourself that it is habit, but you wonder if you are becoming sentimental.

            You wonder if you can feel sentimental.  To the best of your knowledge, it isn't in your programming.

            Time passes, and then you land on a world of politics and intrigue and deadly plots.  Hapes.  Your pilot still broods.  You still wonder.  She is still absent, and you wonder if that contributes anything to his silent thoughts.

            Then she is no longer absent; she is present and arguing with your pilot again, just as no time had passed and nothing had changed since she last parted with him in anger.  But she has changed- you notice, and your pilot notices.  And he broods more, and they argue.  They even fight, both lightsabers humming and throbbing violet-white in the darkness of the hanger.

            And you wonder what it means.

            They come to a truce.  An uneasy truce that screams of a stalemate, of a forced peace.  You wonder what words were exchanged between them that led to this hiatus in their personal war.

            You fly in battle again.  Danger surrounds you; you cannot keep yourself from somehow failing.  Your pilot must eject; you barely survive to return to him.

            You wonder what happened between your pilot and Mistress Jaina.  They are talking, somehow friends once more.  They do not act as though they once fought.  They act as though they both survived something together.  You see them become a team, two parts of a whole, relying on each other and working together for a common goal.

            It does not make logical sense, but then, as Master Eiskbar was fond of reminding you, most beings are illogical creatures at heart.

            You get to formally meet Mistress Jaina at last.  She accompanies your pilot down to the landing bay where your X-wing rested beside hers.  He is rough on her, voice laced with sarcasm and cruel reminders of mistakes; she gives him no quarter and returns insult for insult.  You wonder that he does not take offense: this is the only other being to have physically hurt him, the only other to verbally attack him and walk away unharmed.  You wonder how and why they are friends and seem to get along so well when all they seem to do is insult each other and fight.

            They are arguing on something; both seemed annoyed with the other.  But you whistle an update on your pilot's ship, and he stops his tirade against her and introduces you.

            "This is Zero-One, my astromech," he says, and his voice lightens with amusement.  "He's a pain."

            "So are you," she retorts, and grins down at you.  "Hi, Zero-One.  Is Kyp giving you any trouble?"

            You whistle a pained affirmative, thinking of his stubborn refusal to see reason, and she laughs.  "Figures."  She pats your dome and returns to arguing with him.  All too quickly, she leaves, and when she leaves, your pilot grows somber and touchy and easily annoyed.

            But you have much to ponder, and do not mind.

-

            Somehow, your thoughts have made it all clear.  Understanding lights your panels; you whistle slowly, thinking things over. 

            It has taken a while, but now that the other pilot is part of the picture, you think you understand.  He hides things well, your pilot does, but you watch better.  So you watch him pretending he isn't watching her with that other pilot, and finally understand.

            Love isn't something that you understand.  Not personally.  You are a droid and cannot love.  You are programmed to care, but you are not programmed for any of the stronger emotions.  But you had long talks with Master Eiskbar on love, and so you have a theoretical understanding of it.

            Master Eiskbar had loved.  He had once had a mate, and they had two children.  But the mate died, years before you went to live with Master Eiskbar, in a senseless act of cruelty.  Master Eiskbar told you that her death had been when he had first started to think on things, to wonder about the meaning of it all.  Losing the one he loved caused him to begin to question.

            In a way, you owe your own questioning to Master Eiskbar's lost mate and his love for her.  And so you watch your pilot carefully, and note small things that seem in keeping with your thoughts, so that you may better understand what love is.

            He spends more time thinking, and you remember Master Eiskbar staring out into the sea with his mate's adornments in his hands.  He spends time trying not to mention her, and you realize that Master Eiskbar never actually told you his mate's name.  He protects her knowing he will get nothing in return, and you remember Master Eiskbar's fierce devotion to the coral grove where his mate's body was laid to rest.

            And you conclude that your pilot is in love.

            But things are changing.  It is a time of war, and nothing stays the same for long.  Mistress Jaina is no longer Rogue Eleven; has not been for some time.  You learn of her new rank one afternoon when you access the public terminal: Yun-Harla, the Trickster Goddess.

            Master Eiskbar had wondered if there were gods in existence.  You have wondered the same.  Regardless of that, you know that she cannot be a real goddess.  So therefore, it is a trick.  Your protocol circuits try to convince you to refer to her as Mistress Jaina still, rejecting Goddess as a mere nickname and informal.  But your logic systems override your protocol: Goddess ranks higher than Mistress, and thus it would be more correct to grant her the higher title.  And so she becomes Goddess in your thoughts.

            Your pilot calls her Goddess as well.  You fly into battle once more, and again you fly with the Goddess.  But nothing stays the same in war; in time, you are split apart.  You feel regret at that, and wonder why.  

            He regrets it too; you can tell.  He turns inward once more, spending more time in thought.  But you know where his thoughts lie, and so you understand and do not wonder on it.  You are gathering data, studying him.  Love is a strange concept, you decide.

            You begin to look forward to docking in a ship hanger or on a city landing bay.  You eagerly seek out public access terminals, and you tell yourself that it is just curiosity that has you looking up the Goddess's files with your pilot's.  

            He asks you to check on her occasionally, and you do so.  You don't tell him that you know the real reason why he wants to know she is doing well.

            You understand your pilot now, you think.

            You wonder if you will be able to understand the Goddess.

-

            Time passes.  It has been years, now, since you first were bought by Master Durron, and years since you first met the Goddess.  It has not been that long since you saw her last.

            Your pilot no longer needs you.

            He has a new ship, a living ship, and you- even though you are a complex Q9-series droid- are unnecessary.  He keeps you around, though, and you feel grateful.  You have grown attached to your pilot, this human male that you think you understand.  You do not wish to have a new master.

            Things are changing too quickly for you to record.  The war is over in a matter of days.  Everyone celebrates.

            You feel somehow left out.  You were not needed.

            You avoid the celebrations, the races that techs built for the astromechs, the happily whistling and beeping pilots' droids who survived the final battle.  The battle you didn't fight in.

            You find her in the room you chose to retreat in, and whistle to her.  She glances down at you, and you are surprised to see that she is weeping.

            "Hey, Zero-One," she says softly, and she pats your dome again.  "They've got a racetrack for astromechs- don't you want to race?"

            You beep a negative, and remain silent.  Your panel lights dim, and she sits in silence beside you for a long time.

            You realize that she is thinking, much like your pilot does.  She is sitting in the dark brooding, still and silent, on something that has happened in her past.  Much like he does.  You wonder if all humans do so.

            She interrupts your thoughts with a simply statement.  "I didn't do anything."

            You whistle at her curiously.  She doesn't look at you.  She is talking quietly, almost to herself, but you are suddenly glad that you are here to listen to her.

            "I couldn't fly because Sekot wanted me on the ground.  I didn't get a pod-ship and I couldn't even take my X-wing up.  My squadron flew and I couldn't even lead them."  Her voice sounds tight, and you wonder quickly if she is ill.  But her bio signs are normal, and she continues speaking.  "They said I would be needed on the ground.  And all I'm good for is to be the weak link.  I get knocked out and captured by an idiot and my brother has to come and rescue me.  And while I'm poisoned and recovering, he saves the galaxy."

            She weeps more, tears pouring from her eyes.  You are concerned.

            "I didn't do anything.  They're all celebrating and I didn't do a thing to help earn it."

            You understand her tears now; she feels as you do.  She wasn't needed.  She was left out.  You whistle mournfully with her, and wait in the darkness as she cries.  

            You understand the Goddess.

            You wonder if they understand each other.

-

            She leaves a few days later, and even though the war is over, things change quickly.  Time still passes.  You find that although he no longer needs you, your pilot is unwilling to leave you behind.  You find yourself acting more as a companion to him than a piloting aid, and you wonder about the change.

            You watch him as the years go by.  He is an important Jedi now, on the Council.  You see how he is thinking more about things you have queried on; you watch him ponder important questions with little or no prodding on your part.  You are proud of him.  He considers his thoughts and actions much more closely now that he did when he first bought you.

            You wonder if he and Master Eiskbar would have gotten along.  For the first time, you finally admit that they might.

            But still, there are times when he works on something and his hands will slow and pause, and he will stand up and pace toward a window or a viewpoint and stare out into nothing, and you know he is thinking of her.

-

            It has been years since you have seen her.  He has seen her a few times in the past years, but you have not. 

            You recognize her X-wing when it flies smoothly into the hanger to land.  You recognize her when she climbs down.  She has changed much since you first saw her.  She is no longer so young, no longer so innocent.  But you watch nonetheless as your pilot approaches her, greets her with a hug and a taunt and manages to hide the thoughts you are sure he thinks.

            But she laughs and hugs him back, then stretches up and kisses him.  You watch him fight with himself and lose; you watch his arms come tight around her and her fingers stroke his back.  When they finally separate, they simply stare at each other for a long time.

            And you wonder.

            She finds you after dinner, when most of the hanger is empty, and crouches beside you and talks to you as though she thinks of you as a friend.  You appreciate it; you know she has her own astromech looking out for her, but your pilot is rubbing off on you and you realize that you too are concerned with her.  You have a talk with her droid that night- R2-B3, who goes by the name of Cappie- and find that Cappie is doing a good job of helping her.  Still, you are convinced you could do better.

            They arrive in the hanger together the next morning, and you wonder.  They are laughing and talking, teasing each other and bantering back and forth.  But you see the sidelong looks they give each other, the accidental brushes of an arm against the other that you feel sure are anything but accidental.

            And you wonder.  And you hope.

-

            She visits more often now.

            You notice he is happier, more content.  You watch his eyes track each incoming ship in the hope that it might be hers.

            You see her face light up every time she opens her canopy and finds him waiting for her.  You observe how she lingers as long as she can.

            You watch them together, see the affection, the love, the friendship.

            You wonder when they will realize what you already know.

            And you hope.

-

            Time passes, as it always has.  

            She no longer visits; she has made his base her base, and now she visits elsewhere and returns home to him.  You were given a special cleaning for the wedding; you wonder if either even noticed you.  You see that they are happy together, and you are satisfied.  You care for both, and you don't want anything to happen to either of them.

            You wonder, as others have, if either deserves the other.  If either deserves to be happy.  You wonder if anyone does.

            They both laugh more now.  He pauses and thinks just as often as he did before, but now there is a smile rather than a frown on his face.  You have decided that he simply thinks often, that she is somehow imprinted in his mind.  You wonder how she has changed him.

            You wonder how he has changed her.  She thinks a lot too, but like him, she smiles often.  You wonder what you are missing, and for the first time, feel mild regret that you were not programmed for the stronger emotions.

            You resolve to think on love.

            And you do not wonder so much anymore.  It seems different when you wonder, for you finally feel that you understand.

-

            The children bring thousands of questions.  You are devoted to both of them: Ana, the girl, and Miko, the boy.  They are toddlers now, learning to talk.  You sometimes think that they only know two words: "No!" and "Why?".

            You enjoy them.  They ask questions that make you think.  You see new things in the points they raise.  You no longer feel that you understand, for they make you wonder again.

            You wonder if all children are so wise.

            There is another coming; her belly is swollen with the promise of new life.  They stand together, sometimes, to watch their children play.  He stands behind her; she leans against him.  His hand covers her stomach protectively.

            You are content.  They are both content.

            You are wondering again.  You no longer feel jaded; you feel as though everything is new again.  And as you wonder, you learn.  You learn of life and the unending questions it brings.

            You wonder if you will even understand it completely.

            You run that thought through your programs, and decided that the task is impossible.  Not even you will ever be able to understand everything.

            But that doesn't keep you from wondering.

-


End file.
